It's Called Amnesia
by hobovill99
Summary: It's weird how the mist muddles up your brains. It's weird that Leo can't remember a thing about Jillian when she knows everything about him. It's weird how Jason isn't the only one to have his memory wiped. It's weird how someone you can't remember can be your best friend. Leo/OC comes from their alternating points of view.
1. Prologue

_Klepto._

Thank you. I really try.

_ Freak._

And proud of it.

_ Bitch._

I know you are, but what am I?

It's tiring. It's tiring to be the happy girl that always smiles and ignores the insults. I would much rather be the cranky girl that never talks to anyone. It would make my life much simpler. But, then again, that means I wouldn't have met Leo. I guess I still would've, but we wouldn't have clicked like we did. I would be cranky and he would be...well, Leo.

I met him when I was 12. I smiled, he smiled. I told a joke, he told one back. We coexisted. For two happy years I had a best friend, someone I was completely sure I wouldn't be able to live without. We started food fights, we made farting noises in class together, we would talk about the orphanage owners behind their backs ("You know, sometimes I'm like, 'Damn, who let a troll in!' and then I remember that it's just Sister Leslie."). We lived in an orphanage. Both his parents had died in a fire and mine just didn't want me. He had my back when I was "disciplined", by none other than the infamous Sister Leslie, for stealing Amanda Jones's favorite dress and I had his back when he was "disciplined" for setting fire to it later.

Leo can do that. Set fires, I mean. The orphanage we were both sent to was specifically for troubled kids, he was put in under pyromania. But it was a lot more than that. He didn't have urges to start fires, they started whether he wanted them to or not, and not just around him, actually _on_ him. He had shown me, making a small candle flame ignite on his pointer finger, expecting me to flip out or be afraid, and maybe I should've been, but I wasn't. I had just smiled and told him we should go burn Amanda Jones's annoying pink dress.

I, on the other hand, am an actual kleptomaniac. It's odd, I'm just strangely aware of people and the things on them, the things the bulges could be, the loose ends hanging out. I'm happy with anything, honestly: Wallets, keys, phones, jewelry, family photos, hair clips, schoolbooks, IDs, I had stolen someone's hamster off of their schoolbag once. I'm good at it too, the stealing. Leo has dared me to try it on him on several occasions, he never felt anything, it freaked him out more than his fire did to me, which I found immensely funny.

Every single birthday gift I gave to Leo was stolen and every gift he gave to me was charred on the edges. That didn't make them any less valuable.

We were inseparable, the type that annoying middle aged women would call "Two peas in a pod". At least I thought we were. He left two years later and I never heard from him again.

!

"Just where do you think you're going, Valdez?"

"Away."

"Ooh, we're running away?"

"Not "we". Just me."

"...That's not funny, Leo."

"It's not supposed to be."

"Just where do you think you're going?"

"You asked me that already."

"I'm serious this time."

"I don't know."

"What the fuck do you mean 'I don't know'?"

"I mean _I don't know_."

"Then why go at all?"

"...I don't like it when I'm not moving."

"Neither do I. I'm coming with you."

"No. I don't want you to have to deal with that."

"Never took you as the sexist type."

"Look. I don't want to argue with you, I'm going. Right now."

"Fuck you."

!

_Jillian Waters_.

I often wake up in the middle of the night, thinking that name. It usually comes with a flash of blue hair, a wheezy giggle and the warm feeling of affection in my chest... and then the sharp feeling of hurt. I don't know who she could be, or how I know her, or why I seem to be dreaming of her constantly. I just am. And I'm not sure whether I want it to stop or I want to know more.


	2. THE EPIC TALE OF JILLIAN (POV: Jill)

**6 months after the prologue, 1 year before the main story.**

The slap of my feet against the concrete echoed in the many alleyways of downtown Boston, I was only half-aware of Sherman panting behind me, you tend to not care to much about these things when you're running for your life. I pushed some bullets into a gun I nabbed from a police officer, he hardly blinked as it was taken from his back pocket, along with some ammo, most of them just fell to the ground. In case you didn't know, it's hard to reload a gun when you're running and your only experience in reloading guns is from the Walking Dead.

We were running from...I wasn't sure, exactly. Whatever it was, it was large, had sharp teeth and charging quite vigorously after us, specifically me, which isn't a good combination. It was lucky that I had always been fairly light on my feet. It certainly helped me now, sprinting down an uneven street, too busy reloading a gun and trying not to have a panic attack to watch where I was going, being chased by what I _swear_ was a lion, goat and snake all mashed into one. It started breathing fire at Sherman before I could get a good look at it.

I guess I wasn't as afraid as I could've been, mostly because this happens on a regular basis. It's not always a lion-goat-snake, but it's always _something_ weird, and it's always something that no one else seems to notice. A man with one eye in the middle of his forehead, a scaly tail poking out of the back a teen girl's jeans, a flash of fang and slit pupils as a burly college guy winked and grinned at me. They're not always after me, but when they are, it's never pretty. Another thing, lion-goat-snake breath isn't pretty either.

My chest burned from being winded, my nose burned from the smell and my head burned because my hair was on fire. I was reminded forcefully of PE class back at the orphanage, running until my lungs stopped working and my legs collapsed under me, and then running some more. I wasn't being chased by a fire-breathing lion-goat-snake at the time, but Sister Leslie on her period would have to about be ten times worse.

I looked up from the gun. Concrete, trashcans and alleyways, everywhere. Why do all the lion-goat-snakes attack in downtown Boston?

I took a sharp left turn into one of the tinier alleyways and heard Sherman grunting and blundering behind me. Fast reflexes. That's a good thing about ADHD. Fast reflexes. I collapsed against the damp brick wall, trying to decide if it were worth the risk of dying from sewer fumes to catch my breath. The sound of Sherman's sharp, wheezy panting turned into the sound of Sherman's high-pitched, girlish screams as the lion-goat-snake butted its giant head against the entrance to the alley. Roaring and bleating and shooting plumes of fire from its fanged mouth and slimy nostrils. A giant lump of fur and scales and teeth and claws. It's head was too big to fit into the cramped alley, but the fire made its way in, Sherman's jeans caught and he tripped out of his shoes, literally. A pair of shiny hooves popped out of his sneakers, but that wasn't the time to worry about it.

I raised the gun and fired.

I stumbled, falling to the ground, my bony shoulders weren't made for recoil. But I hadn't spent three years aiming spit wads at Sister Leslie's bald spot for nothing, I hit my mark, and the lion-goat-snake gave one last roar-bleat-hiss, before exploded into yellow dust.

I had probably already gotten four different types of cancerous-rabies-AIDs from prolonged contact with Boston sewer mildew, but at the moment I was too freaked to care. Sherman plopped down on the ground next to me and we both struggled to breathe. I realized that, now that the adrenaline rush faded and I had stopped running, it was very cold and damp and drizzly.

"You ok, Jill?" Sherman nudged my side with his...hoof. Goddamn, Sherman had a hoof. Hooves, actually. I rolled onto my side to look at him. I had known Sherman even longer than I'd known Leo, but we'd never clicked like Leo and I did. Always the smart one, always the quiet one, always the one that said, "Guys, this is a bad idea.", always the one that no one listened to. Though, unlike Leo, he and I left the orphanage together. I guess, despite my constant teasing of his glasses and scaredy-cat-ness, I hold some affection for him. And I guess, despite my constant teasing of his glasses and scaredy-cat-ness, he holds some affection for _me_.

"Yup. You?" I resisted the urge to add something about his newfound hooves and the stubby horns I just realized I could see, now that his his red hair was matted to his head with sweat and mist and his baseball cap flew off in the chase. The horns would explain why he always refused to take his hat off during the Pledge of Allegiance at orphan school.

"Yeah..."

"What's with the hooves?" Ok, first thing to know about me, I am _not_ good at resisting urges.

Sherman turned red, "Well..um...you weren't really supposed to see those...or the horns." He stretched out his legs and wiggled his hooves back and forth, and sighed, "I guess it's about time you found out. I mean, after that attack...I don't think it's safe for you not to know anymore..." He fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt, glancing nervously between the picture of Super Man on the front and my face.

I pushed myself into a sitting position, ignoring how my arms and legs shuddered with just that simple movement, "Find out what?" Another thing about me, I don't like it when things are kept from me.

He turned even redder, "Look, I'm not the one to tell you. I mean, you're _way_ over the appropriate age to enter the Camp, but it's better late than never, right? I mean, that's partially my fault, I never quite mastered mist control, so I couldn't take you out of the orphanage earlier, and then there was Leo, which was an unexpected difficulty, and then they didn't have any other satyrs to take him, and now this happened, and-"

I put my hand up to cut him off. None of what he was saying made any sense. It made even less sense to my over exhausted brain, and even _less_ sense with Sherman's nervous habit of rambling and stuttering, "What the actual fuck are you talking about?"

"This will all make sense, I promise you." He gave me a reassuring smile.

I can't believe I trusted him for a second.

!

It didn't make any more sense. Not after Sherman took out a coin he called a "drachma", not after he threw it into a fountain and said something along the lines of "Oh, Isis, goddess of the rainbow (whatever that is), show me Chiron (whoever that was)", and _definitely_ not after a middle-aged guy in a wheel chair and holding a sword appeared and started talking to Sherman about demigods and pegasi and Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson. If anything, it made less sense.

I had probably said "What the actual fuck?" more often in that one day than I had ever said in my entire life.

"Ok." Sherman sat down next to me on the brim of the fountain and nodded as if everything were sorted, except it wasn't, not to me anyway, "We just need to wait for Annabeth and Percy to pick us up. I can't believe I'll be on the same pegasus as them!" He grinned like Christmas came early.

"So, are they, like, the Bradgelina of the weirdo-world?" I asked, grateful for something in this day that I actually get, at least a little. I stopped myself from adding "And, by the way, what's a pegasus? Because that really wasn't explained in as much detail as it probably could have been.".

"Yeah, pretty much. They've been one more quests than anyone in Camp Half-Blood!"

And back it goes to not making sense.

I decided it would be better to not talk than feel more stupid every minute. Sherman did not share the same idea, but he seemed to be taking full advantage of my once-in-a-life-time silence.

"So, what do you think Percy and Annabeth are like? I mean, I've seen them around, and they look _awesome_, but what are they _like_, as in, how do they act? How did they get through all the quests? What scent deodorant do they use? Do they like tin cans? I guess they wouldn't, being human and all...Are you sure you're not going to interrupt me? In a usual conversation you would have interrupted me _long_ before now-"

I zoned out, immersing myself in thoughts of how annoying Sherman was, and why he was mentioning Leo for the first time in half a year. At this of all times. I thought I was over the whole, "Leo leaving without me like the bitch he is" thing, but apparently I wasn't. Hearing his name, even after such a long time, felt like a punch to the gut.

It took five minutes of staring at my knees to both calm myself down and realize that my jeans were ripped and my knees were bleeding. _A lot_. Just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse.

"-Though the one thing I can't understand is how you could kill that Chimera with a mortal gun. I mean, they're only supposed to be harmed by Celestial Bronze...I guess some sons of Ares would become police officers and load their weapons with Celestial Bronze bullets, that police _did_ seem a little fishy-" Surprise, surprise. Sherman was still rambling and Sherman was still not making any sense.

I thought vaguely of a term I learned from Leo. FML. Fuck My Life. If there was a time to say it, this was it. I was probably insane. Can you still be insane if you know you're insane? Then again, I probably wouldn't be considering the possibility of my insanity if I _was_ insane. Ok, I'm not insane. This was actually happening. Goddamnit.

I was just wondering if two-inch fountain water can drown a person, when Sherman gave a very not-masculine squeal, pointing and waving his arms at a speck in the sky. I squinted. Those couldn't be...horses up there. There was a shriek from the speck. No. A whinny. Those were horses. Mother fucking flying horses.

I stood up, a little slower than I usually would have, thanks to my shredded up knees, and stared. I had seen so much weird shit in one day, I was probably a lot less freaked out by the prospect of flying horses than I should've been. If I hadn't faced a, what had Sherman called it?, Chimera, fired a gun for the first time and witnessed a crippled guy appearing in a fountain, I probably would've been screaming and peeing my pants.

The horses landed with a graceful and, in my opinion, a much too showy flurry of wings, and a boy and girl, probably a little older than me, hopped off from their backs. The girl looked queasy and the boy looked like this was the best day of his life.

"Hey, is this the new camper?" The boy turned and smiled at Sherman, who looked like he was about to wet himself.

"Um..Er..Y-yeah. I mean, I'm not the new camper, I'm a satyr, y'know...horns? But, she is. Jill. This is Jill." At the last couple words he grabbed my arm and pushed me towards the guy, "Say hi, Jill."

I looked the guy up and down. I could only reach his chest thanks to my terminal shortness, but I could tell he would still be pretty tall even to a normal sized person. He was your classic summer romance novel dude. Tan skin, sea green eyes, well-muscled arms, a ridiculously white smile. Everything. Except his hair was black instead of sandy blonde. Not my type.

"Sup." I used it as a greeting rather than a question. Whatever was "up" with him, it couldn't be much worse than what I was going through.

"Hey. I'm Percy."

I giggled a little, "Percy?"

"If you've got a problem with it you can just call him Seaweed Brain." The girl stepped up next to Percy and put her arm around his shoulders. If he was a summer heart-throb, she was a California Bitch all the way. Blonde, tan, curvy. The only thing out of place were her eyes. Grey. And not a pleasant, peaceful, ocean grey. A stormy grey. A dangerous grey. She was not someone to mess with.

"It's just...I thought you'd have a beach bum name. Like Dennis, or Craig, or something like that." I stifled another smile at how stupid his name was.

"Believe me, I get that a _lot_." He grinned, "But we're not here to talk about our ridiculous names, though I do have some choice things to say about the name Jill, we're here to, as Chiron put it," Percy put on a british accent, "'Escort you to Camp Half-Blood.'"

My smile faded a little, "Is any one going to tell me what the fuck a 'Camp Half-Blood' is? Because I'm pretty tired of not knowing what's going on."

"Aren't we all?" California Bitch said with a humorless smile.

I gave her look. It could've been the PMS talking, but I had a feeling it wasn't. Whatever was "up" with her _was_ probably worse than what was happening with me.

"Jeez, Annabeth." Percy nudged her in the ribs, "Don't be so depressing. You're going to scare off the new girl. But it's true that things aren't really going as well as they could be. Titan wars and whatnot."

Annabeth rolled her eyes, "Jesus, Seaweed Brain..."

I groaned, "I thought I made it pretty clear that I'm sick of not knowing what's going on. What's Camp Half Blood? What's a Chimera? What's a demigod? What's a titan? And for fuck's sake, what is up with those freaky winged horses?"

Percy raised his hands in surrender, "Calm down, Little Lady (And I mean _really_ little lady). These questions will all be answered if you hop onto my faithful steed, Blackjack," He pointed towards the snobby looking black pegasus, "And come with me to the magical land of Half-Blood-topia."

Annabeth rolled her eyes again. I could tell she was used to rolling her eyes around Percy, "You are so full of shit."

"Thank you. You should try it some time." That comment earned him a Yankee's baseball cap to the face.

!

After about half an hour of what seemed to be a Percy vs. Annabeth rap battle, I was on the back of Percy's pegasus and Sherman was boarded on the back of Annabeth's, if there was any suitable time for a fanboy to be fainting, this was it. Well, other than whole, "Sitting on the slippery butt of a saddle-less horse 50 feet in the air" thing (BTW, much less exhilarating than I thought it would be).

"So." Percy turned around on his horse so he was facing me and resting his back on Blackjack's neck. It didn't look very safe, but what to I know about pegasi safety measures? He wriggled around a bit to get more comfortable and continued, "What do you know about Greek mythology?"

I raised an eyebrow. Partially at his strange position and partially at the weird question, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Don't ask, just answer."

"Nothing. Didn't teach it at...school." The last thing I needed was orphan-pity.

He nodded, "You've got a lot to learn then."

Actually, orphan-pity would've been great. Better than a comment on my stupidity at least. But Sherman and Leo didn't unanimously crown me the Queen of Snark because of my good looks, "I think we can see who has the most to learn by how you haven't nailed Blondie yet."

Percy spluttered and nearly fell off of Blackjack, "I do _not_ have a crush on Annabeth."

"Really?" I smiled evilly. Along with stealing and chugging entire pints of chocolate milk in under a minute (I don't recommend trying it if you have no experience with brain freeze), one of my skills is uncovering touchy subjects and beating them to pulp, "I don't see why you would be so flustered by a _friendly_ arm around your shoulder."

"Well, what about you an Sherman? What's up with that?" Pfft. Amateur.

"A beautiful friendship formed by three shared years of suffering." I did the biggest dramatic arm movement that I could without falling off of Blackjack or hitting Percy in the face. Though the latter was slightly tempting at this point.

Percy smirked and swatted my hand away from his head, "I think you'll fit in just fine at Camp. You'll like Travis and Connor." He leaned backwards onto Blackjack's mane, crossing his arms behind his head and using them as a neck rest, "Are you _sure_ you don't know anything about Greek mythology?"

"I'll tell you if I do or not when you tell me what it has to do with anything."

"You mean, other than the flying horses and your goat-man friend?" He said with a cocky grin.

"Seriously, though."

He shifted uncomfortably, "It's a lot to take in. I thought I was having a weird grief hallucination when Chiron first broke it to me."

"Grief hallucination?"

"Well, you see, at the time I thought my mom was dead and Chiron was my Latin teacher...I'd also just recently killed my math teacher and got kicked out of school..."

I nodded weakly, "Right. That's my average Sunday morning."

He gave a short laugh, "So, Greek mythology. What do you know about the Greek gods?"

"What are you? A fucking Greek mythology professor?" He gave me a look, "Ok, jeez. Chill-pill, Professor Percy." I wracked my brain for anything anyone might have mentioned to me at any point in time in my short 15-year life about the Greeks, "So, um. Zeus is the lightning guy...Hades is the death guy. There was that other one...Posidren? No, Poseidon. Ocean dude-"

Percy cringed, "That's one hell of a way to refer to my dad."

I stared at him. Dad. As in, my father is the fictional Greek god of the mother fucking ocean. Maybe I _am _crazy, and Percy and Sherman and Leo are all just my equally insane mental hospital mates who work their way into my hallucinations. God. My thoughts were really beginning to sound like and Adventure Time fan theory.

Rather than stating my theory to Percy, or telling him that he was totes cray and needs to to get shit togetha', I just shook my head, "That does _not_ make any sense." Nothing that anyone was saying seemed to be making sense today.

He smiled ruefully, as if this was exactly the reaction he was expecting to get from me, "It didn't make sense to me the first time I heard it either."

I sat up a little straighter, "Poseidon is your dad?" I asked skeptically.

"Yup. I've gone through two step dads, but Poseidon is my biological dad.

"Poseidon as in, Poseidon: All powerful god of the fucking sea?"

"Yup."

"As in, Poseidon, God of the fucking sea, had sex with your mom and made you?"

He shuddered, "Thanks for the image and, yes, he is. My mom likes to say I was delivered by a stork, but, yeah. Poseidon, 'god of the fucking sea' is my dad."

"So, he's real then?" I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the concept. And still trying to decide whether or not Percy was crazy and whether or not I was too far up to escape he _was_.

"Yeah. They're all real. Sherman is real, Blackjack is real, _your_ godly parent, whoever that may be, is real." He had started poking my forehead to punctuate every word. As if he were trying to physically drill the ideas into my head. It wasn't working.

"I'm a fucking god-spawn?"

Percy started snickering, "I've never thought of it that way, but, yes. You are god-spawn. I am god-spawn! Annabeth is god-spawn! THE WHOLE FUCKING CAMP IS GOD-SPAWN!" He grabbed my shoulders and started shaking me. We both collapsed into giggles that made Annabeth twist around on her pegasus glare at us, resurfacing at random intervals to shout "GOD-SPAWN".

We laughed and laughed and laughed some more. At least when I was laughing I didn't have to think about the huge load that was just put onto me. At least when I was laughing I didn't have to _think_.

!

Everything that happened after I got off the pegasus was a blur. A dull, ringing, confused blur of depressed faces and orange t-shirts. Chiron had sat me down and given me a very over-fatherly speech about the Camp and how I was a child of a Greek god and how my parent would claim me soon, and until then I could stay at the Hermes cabin. The Hermes cabin is actually what confirmed that this was actually happening. Everyone was stealing things left and right. None of them were nearly as good at it as me, of course, but I could see how someone couldn't leave a dirty sock without supervision in here. This was a legitimate thing. My mom or dad was a Greek god. There were 12 year olds with weapons. 12 year olds with fucking weapons. Barns with fucking pegusi. Rock climbing walls with fucking lava. Camp counselors with the bottom halves of fucking horses.

Fuck.

I curled up in a used sleeping bag that I was pretty sure someone threw up in, and tried to sleep through the sour smell, the constant Hermes-themed noises and the largest dose of new information I'd ever gotten clogging my head.

** Authors note: FIRST CHAPTER, BEEYOTCHES. Ok, this is probably the longest piece of writing I've ever started and finished: 3759 characters, GOT DAYUM. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the first official chapter, sorry for the lack of Leo :( But do not fear! He will appear in the next chapter and drama will ensue! Reviews are appreciated! BUH BYE!**

**-HBV99**


	3. I am NOT a Vulcan (POV: Leo)

** Authors note: I'd like to thank everyone for your support! I hope you enjoy the first all Leo chapter!**

** I just want to reply to one review The Gummy Bears Are Coming made. You disabled your PM, TGBAC! I am forced to shame you publicly! (JK, you are cool beans).**

** The review in question: Can't wait for the next update! But I was wondering if you could stop cussing as much? It would be awesome if you could.**

** My swift and eloquent reply: First off, thank you! I am awesome, aren't I? Secondly, there will be less swearing from now on, but it will still be there. Leo doesn't do it as much, only the occasional hell, damn and crap, and only serious stuff when he's angry or freaked out. But Jill is a very...linguistic, let's say, person. She swears quite frequently: When she's agitated, when she's happy, casually, ANYTIME, ANY PLACE. It's just a bad habit of hers. I'm sorry if all the cursing is offending you, but it'll probably still happen quite a bit, at least in Jill POV chapters and big dialogue scenes between Jill and Leo.**

** Anyway, on to the show! Take it away, Leo!**

Ok. I'm hanging off of the Grand Canyon my by fingertips. There are probably better places to begin my story, like the beginning. But SCREW THE SYSTEM! I DO WHAT I WANT! Which includes starting my story 15 years after the beginning. There will be other times to tell the story of me before all this happened, but this is where the important stuff starts.

So, yeah. Hanging off of the Grand Canyon by my fingertips.

I wasn't _just_ hanging off the Grand Canyon by my fingertips, I was hanging off the Grand Canyon by my fingertips as my much more attractive blonde friend, Jason, fought off wind-monsters. I probably shouldn't have been worrying about my self-esteem to much in my current position (hanging off the Grand Canyon by my fingertips, remember?) but, it didn't really help me feel too good about my already wavering masculinity.

Wind-monsters. Don't even ask me why there are wind-monsters in Arizona. Or why the wind-monster happened to be the douche-nozzle that was constantly trying to get into my best friend's pants. Not Jason's pants, that would be weird. My _other_ best friend, Piper, who was also fighting wind monsters whilst I hung off the side of the Grand Canyon by my fingertips. Yeah, masculinity=zero.

I felt the rocks digging into my fingers and prayed to every god out there that my grip would hold. If I was going to die at the age of 15, I would prefer it to be in a situation where I still had an ounce of manliness left.

I closed my eyes and tried to pretend that I wasn't about to die a gruesome death in a national landmark. I was still at Wilderness School. I just needed to do a pull up. Coach Hedge was screaming, per usual...Coach Hedge was screaming...

What was Coach screaming? It was hard to hear over the wind and thunder, yeah, wind and thunder regularly rolls around during gym classes in Arizona. Totally. Something about cupcakes. Something about opening my damn eyes and grabbing his arm...

My eyelids snapped up. I almost fell asleep while hanging off the Grand Canyon. Freaking ADHD.

I looked up and saw the hairy ham shaped arm of none other than Coach Hedge himself in front of me. I reached up and grabbed onto it. I expected him just to hoist me back onto the board walk, but apparently my dignity hadn't yet suffered enough. I was slung unceremoniously over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Honestly, what did I expect from the man who thought Jessica Stirling could just "walk off" her broken leg, and then called the nurses that shipped her off to the ER room a "bunch of pansies".

After a very bumpy ride on Coach Hedge's not-so-comfortable shoulder, I was thrown clumsily over the railing of the walkway, landing hard on my elbow. If it were humanly possible for Coach Hedge to be any less gentle, I probably would have shattered it.

"Spirits, fear me!" Coach screamed, flexing his stumpy arms. The sight probably would have been hilarious under any circumstance other than this one. He looked around. I don't know how, but Jason had already killed two of the wind-monsters. Probably with his complete and utter majestic, perfect hotness, "Curse it. boy!" Coach snapped at him, "Didn't you leave some for me? I like a challenge!"

I got unsteadily to my feet, the only thing stopping me from falling right back down was the fact that I couldn't afford to lose any more coolness than I already had, I felt my hands stinging in the cold wind and realized they were probably bleeding, "Yo, Coach Supergoat, whatever you are-" Right, along with everything else, my gym coach was a goat-man-beast thing, "I just fell down the freaking Grand Canyon! Stop asking for challenges!" It felt good to be the one shouting at Coach Hedge instead of the other way around.

That feeling of accomplishment didn't last, Dylan, douche-nozzle, wind-monster, whatever people are calling him these days, sneered, "You have no idea how many enemies you've awakened, half-bloods. My mistress will destroy _all_ demigods! This is a war you _cannot_ win!" Ok, so Dylan was into some freaky shit. No hate. Well, other than the hate over almost killing me.

The storm clouds that had been gathering ever since I stepped into the godforsaken Canyon museum turned into a fully fledged hurricane. Cracks appeared in the already wobbly skywalk. Rain came down in sheets, soaking my jacket and my hair and my...everything. I grabbed onto the railing in hopes of not being thrown over the edge once again.

The center of the hurricane opened, creating what would probably be the closest thing I'd ever see to a black hole. Dylan the douche smiled maniacally, "The mistress calls me back! And you, demigod, are coming with me!" He lunged at Jason. You know, if you're a wind monster bent on destroying a national landmark and killing three innocent teenagers and one not-so-innocent gym coach goat, the least you could do is make your cryptic warnings vaguely understandable.

Anyway, Dylan's smoky hands were inches away from Jason's neck when Piper tackled him from behind. I was a strange sight. A pretty Native American girl getting a piggy back ride from a very angry-looking cloud. Dylan thrashed around, and it became very obvious that Piper wouldn't be able to hold on forever. Jason and Coach ran at the duo, and so did I, after a split second of intelligence and thinking of the consequences. The moral of this story, kids, is always think about the consequences. In this case, the consequence was getting a concussion. Dylan screamed and let loose a gust of wind. Actually, gust isn't the word. More like a explosion of wind, a torrent of wind. Whatever the right word is, it's much stronger than gust. Coach and Jason fell to the floor, Piper flew over the the side, and I hit my head on a metal railing-bar and got knocked half-unconscious. Such is the life of Leo Valdez.

"I'll settle for this one!" That was Dylan the Douche's voice. This one what? My question was answered when he grabbed my arm and started towing me upwards, towards the black hole. It vaguely registered in my brain to fight back, to wrestle and squirm until he let go of me, but my arms and legs weren't cooperating, my head felt like it was full of cement there was ringing in my ears. I opened my eyes a half-inch and saw Jason catapulting himself over the side of the skywalk. Oh, so you'll risk your life for your ho, but not for you bro? That's low man. You're in serious violation of the bro-code. I shut my eyes in the face of death for the second time in one day. But this time I was waiting for it. My body is ready, Death-senpai.

But then the grip on my arm disappeared, the ringing in my ears was replaced by shouts of, "DIE, STORM SPIRIT BITCH, DIE!" and I fell to the ground, cushioned by only glass and those weird golden powder heaps that had appeared after Jason killed Dylan's group of BFFLs.

!

I felt a pair of bony hands turn me over from my side onto my back. _I don't want to wake up_. Even mind-speech was hard to articulate through the haze in my brain, "Stupid...Ugly...Goat"

"Where did he go?"

My eyelids fluttered open and I saw Piper's kaleidoscope eyes and chocolate hair above me. Not the worst thing in the world to wake up to. I struggled for my most recent memories in the soup that was the current state of my head, and pointed straight upwards, "Never came down." More memories, "Please tell me he didn't actually save my life." I probably couldn't live with the shame if he did.

"Twice." Jason said, a hint of a smile poking through the soot and panic on his face. Thanks, buddy. I can always count on you to make me feel better.

I groaned, "What happened? The tornado guy, the gold sword...I hit my head. That's it, right? I'm hallucinating." I waved my hands at their faces, they flickered slightly above me thanks to my concussed head, just to make sure they were holograms. But my hand connected with Piper's very solid cheek.

Jason's face wasn't just flickering, it was completely gone. At my mention of the sword he had walked over to pick it up. I propped myself up on one elbow just in time to see him throw it in the air. It probably should have came down and skewered his face, but it changed into a heavy gold coin mid-spin, "Yep, definitely hallucinating." I collapsed back onto my back, completely sure of two things: 1. I would never get up again. 2. Coach Hedge slipped some serious LSD into my mandatory field trip juice-box.

Piper shivered dramatically in her wet clothes, I partially expected her to run into Jason's arms and ask him to warm her up again...with his body, instead she said the much less entertaining, "Jason, those things-"

"Venti." He said, tucking the coin into his pocket, "Storm spirits."

"Ok. You acted like...like you'd seen them before. Who _are_ you?" Piper looked up at him.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you. I don't know." Jesus Christ. Can you get any more 90's amnesiac soap opera?

I turned onto my side, looking away from the teary eyes and struggles to remember his one true love. Wishing I had a witty comment to make this conversation less nauseating.

Something Piper said caught my ear, "...He called us...what, _demigods_?"

I turned on my back again. Turning over twice in five minutes. I was really overexerting myself, "Don't know what demi means, but I'm not feeling too godly. Are you guys feeling godly?"

The skywalk cracked some more, but, amazingly, I wasn't paying attention to that, "Oookay. Look up there and tell me those are flying horses." I really hoped they weren't. It would only further confirm my suspicion that I was totally insane, or high. Either worked for me.

"Reinforcements." Jason stated, as if this were completely normal, "Hedge told me an extraction squad was coming for us."

I got to my feet, ignoring the throbbing of my legs and the severe head-rush, "Extraction squad? That sounds painful." And believe me when I say I had enough pain for one day.

Everything from the moment the flying horses landed was a downhill ride from weird to freakish to OMFG WHAT DA FUCK IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING RIGHT NOW. A blonde girl had jumped from a chariot that had been attached to the flying horses, wielding a knife and a very pissed expression. After jabbing the knife at each of us in turn, screaming at the sky, freaking out over Jason's missing shoe and having to be calmed down by a rainbow body builder named Butch (it was a lot weirder than it sounds), she had finally regained enough sanity to kidnap us. And you think your life is fucked up.

!

Throughout the chariot ride we learned a little more about the blonde girl. Her name was Annabeth, for one thing, it was definitely one of the weirdest names I'd ever heard, but it wasn't really my place to judge a girl who was both much taller than me and armed. Annabeth was actually freaking out that much because her boyfriend, a boy by the name of Percy Jackson, had gone missing a few weeks ago. That's also why she flipped out at Jason. A prophetess said that a boy with one shoe would hold the answer, and Jason's shoe had been blown off when he had been electrocuted...and while I had been hanging off the Grand Canyon by my fingertips. She came from a camp of people like us, half Greek god, half human. And, yes. Apparently Greek gods are real. Greek monsters, like Coach Hedge and Dylan the Douche, are real too, and most of them are out to kill us.

This made her seem a little more sane, but her story was still one of the stranger ones out there. Her explanation reflected worse on my sanity, actually.

But, flying horses, so what the hey, "This is so cool!" I probably shouldn't have opened my mouth, I got a faceful horse feathers, which wasn't so cool. I spat them out, hoping nobody noticed, "Where are we going?"

"A safe place." Annabeth had replied, still glaring accusatorially at Jason, "The _only_ safe place for kids like us. Camp Half-Blood."

Half-blood?" Piper bristled, the girls at Wilderness School called her that a _lot_, thanks to her Cherokee heritage, "Is this some kind of bad joke?"

"She means we're demigods." Jason muttered, "Half god, half mortal." I had no idea how he knew that, but this boy was full of surprises today.

Annabeth cocked an eyebrow, and I immediately wished I could raise just one eyebrow. When you have ADHD, there's no time for priorities, "You seem to know a lot, Jason. But, yes, demigods. My mom is Athena, the goddess of wisdom. Butch here is a son of Iris, the rainbow goddess."

I stifled a snort, badly, "Your mom is the rainbow goddess?"

"Got a problem with that?" Butch asked, flexing his very masculine rainbow tattoo threateningly.

"No, no. Rainbows. Very macho." I turned away so he wouldn't see my face twitching from trying not to smile, bad idea. The chariot didn't have a back, so I got a much too good view of the ground...about 100 feet below me. But it was either death by falling out of a chariot or death by a rainbow muscle man _throwing_ me out of a chariot. I personally preferred the former.

"Butch is our best equestrian." Annabeth continued as if I hadn't spoken. A lot of people do that when I talk, "He gets along great with the pegasi."

"Rainbows." I muttered, by back still facing them, "Ponies."

I felt a pair of meaty hands on the collar of my jacket, "I'm gonna toss you off this chariot!"

I felt Piper ease his arm away from the back of my neck, "Demigods." She said, turning the subject away from tossing me off of a chariot, "You mean, you think you're...you think _we're_-"

There was a flash of lightning (as if I hadn't already witnessed enough lightning for an entire lifetime) and the chariot shuddered. I probably would have fallen off if Butch's fingers weren't still gripping my collar. My masculinity was probably a negative number at this point. Saved by the rainbow-pony-muscle-man. Stuff like this only happens when you're me.

"The left wheel's on fire!" Jason screamed, we didn't really need him to, there was a quite obvious set of flames snaking it's way up from the left side of the chariot. _Fire_. God did I hate fire.

Hanging off the back of the chariot, with nothing but pony-rainbow-Butch's index finger to support me, I had a perfect view of the scene behind us. More wind-monster. That's exactly what I needed. More wind-monsters. These ones were different from Dylan the Douche, though I highly doubted it made them any less dangerous. These ones were like the flying horses, except they were encased in lightning and made of smoke.

"Why are they-?"

Annabeth answered Piper's question before finished it, I had a weird feeling that Annabeth did that a lot, "Anemoi, wind spirits, come in different shapes. Sometimes human, sometimes stallion, depending on how chaotic they are. Hold on. This is going to get rough."

She was right. I had a feeling she was right most of the time too. My third feeling about Annabeth was that behind the wall of nerdiness and boyfriend-dependence, there was a warrior. She was someone who could take care of herself. I might of found it hot if she wasn't at least 5 feet taller than me and downright terrifying.

I couldn't see what was going on. Butch could steer one-handed, so he was in no hurry to release me. I felt us accelerating. Going much faster than a regular horse should be. My ears popped, my stomach flipped and my vision went dark. We had probably broken at least seven different sound barriers, that's what it felt like, at least.

The cloudiness in my sight faded, and my eyes fell the most beautiful view I'd ever seen in my life: Rolling green hills, a small cluster of Greek-style buildings, a glistening river snaking it's way across the mini Greece, trees and mountains surrounding it in every direction, and a climbing wall that appeared to be on fire. The last part was a little iffy, but it didn't really deter from the view as a whole. Of course the Grand Canyon was beautiful, but that moment was sort of ruined when I was thrown over the side of it.

This moment was about to be ruined too. The wheels snapped off of the chariot and we spiraled towards the ground. The horses were half asleep with exhaustion and Annabeth and Butch were screaming and tugging at the reins, "Aim for the lake! The lake!" Annabeth shouted.

That's a great idea, Annabeth! Not. I was the first to hit the water.

In the panic, Butch had let go of me, with no handlebars or seatbelt to cling on to, I simply fell out of the open back of the chariot. There should really be more chariot safety regulations. My body was immediately encased in cold and I really didn't have the option of holding my breath because all of it was knocked out of me. I felt myself close to dying for the third time in a period of two hours. It's very lucky I never learned how to swim.

I opened my eyes and tried to look through the murky water. This time, I would at least _try_ to find a way to evade death. A pair of bright yellow irises came into view. Said irises were attached to a very pretty teenage girl. Her hair was floating like a black halo around her head and when she grinned, she revealed a set of shiny piranha fangs.

I smoothed my hair back (not very effective underwater) and waved. Giving her my best "Hey, babe." expression. If I was going to die, I might as well pick up a cute girl. Half fish or not.

She just giggled, which sounded really weird underwater, grabbed my arm and hauled me on to the shore. I could have _sworn_ she gave me the fish version of "call me." before my face broke to the surface.

I was hardly on the bank for a second before I was swarmed by a group of people. Some older than me, some younger, but all much more muscular and wearing orange t-shirts. One of them offered me a blanket, some looked at my shoes, and then shook their heads (they were probably looking for Jason), some bombarded me with questions I couldn't even _begin_ to know how to answer, and some just looked me up and down, sizing me up. I probably didn't look like much. Short, Latino and soaking wet. I looked like even less when Jason climbed on to the shore (without any help from the fish-ladies, of course), tall and blonde, with his abs showing through his wet t-shirt. People definitely seemed more interested in him.

I looked around. This place was a lot more impressive close up, the building looked taller, the grass looked greener, and I noticed for the first time the abnormally large pine tree that was sitting on the top of one of the taller hills. Like a guardian or something. It hurt my head to think that it even existed, so I looked at the people instead. My brain probably couldn't withstand much more.

The people were interesting. The youngest seemed about ten and the oldest about nineteen. A selection of them had the legs and horns of goats, like Hedge, and they all seemed to be in their own little groups. A group of insanely beautiful, gossipy looking girls, a group of what seemed more like furless water buffalos than people, including the smell and the attitude, another group of people with twitchy hands and eyes that wandered towards peoples' pockets, and a group of blonde kids all crowded around a book labeled _Advanced Algebra and Physics Theory_. Weird.

I let my eyes wander some more, willing to look at anything other than the group of girls that had formed around Jason, and I did a double take at the group of twitchy kids. Something had caught my eye there. A flash of sky blue hair. A very familiar flash of sky blue hair. I edged to the side to see over the heads of the twins that were talking to her. Whatever they were saying, it was funny, because she was laughing her head off. She had an odd laugh. It was regular for the first couple seconds, but she seemed to use too much air, too fast, because the laugh eventually became silent other than the occasional wheeze and gasping breath. It was a familiar laugh, and it immediately made _me_ want to laugh. I had no idea why.

I found a peeping gap between the twins' shoulders and saw her. It was strange to say that she was girl who was built exactly like me: Short, scrawny, flat-chested, bulk-less. She was actually even shorter than me. I didn't even think that was humanly possible for people over the age of two. Everything else about her made up for her tiny frame, huge brown eyes, squinted and teary from laughter, a nose that was just a little too big for her face and splattered with freckles, a chipped front tooth and most eye-catching of all, a full head of neck length, bright blue hair, sticking out in weird directions as if she hadn't brushed the bed-head out of it (judging by her overall grubby look, she probably hadn't).

I stared at her, trying to grasp what was it about her that screamed "home.", what was it about her that told me that I was missing something?

Our eyes met over the twins' shoulders. I looked away, like I always do when girls catch me staring at them, but she didn't. In fact, she did exactly the opposite. She pushed past the twins, their hilarious joke completely forgotten and launched herself at me.

Now, under normal circumstances, I'm all for cute girls throwing themselves into my arms. But this particular girl was very bony, squeezing the breath out of me and throwing herself at me on the edge of a lake I had just gotten out of.

We stumbled and very nearly fell in to the river, as I predicted we would, I probably would have been double dipped if the girl hadn't caught my balance for me. She didn't look the part, but she was actually pretty strong (that was already proven by the bone-crushing hug). She buried her face in to my chest, but quickly let go and stepped back to the one foot minimum of socially accepted distance between complete strangers, "Shit, Leo. Is it really you?"

"Um, is it?" I probably would have backed further away from her if I weren't teetering on the edge of a river. She still standing much too close for comfort, and people were starting to stare.

She giggled that wheezy giggle of hers as if she's expected that response, "It's just...I didn't think you were god-spawn too." She looked at me, there was something soft about her eyes that shouldn't have been there. It was making me uncomfortable. The only other person who had ever given me that look was my mother.

She took a step back from me, which was a huge relief until I found out why. There was a huge flaming red hammer floating above my head, "Holy shit!" I jumped and almost landed fell into the river again, the girl had grabbed the front of my shirt in the nick of time, "Is my hair on fire?" I batted at it, but my hand just went through the hammer as if it were a hologram.

"No." Jason extracted himself from the group of girls to get a better look at me, "You've been claimed by your godly parent. That's the symbol of Vulcan, right?" He directed the question at Annabeth, who narrowed her eyes.

"Jason...how did you know that?"

He looked around at all the eyes that had turned on him at his comment, "I'm...not sure."

"Anyway, yes, that is the symbol of Vulcan, but that's the Roman term."

"Vulcan?" The image of an elf with crazy eyebrows and a bowl haircut popped into my head, "I don't even like Star Trek! What are you talking about?"

The weird girl wheeze-giggled again and rolled her eyes.

"Vulcan is the Roman term for Hephaestus. God of blacksmiths and fire." Annabeth stated in her usual "I memorized this off of a textbook" voice.

The hammer faded, but it didn't make the situation less freaky, "The god of_ what_? Who? Are you people all tripping on acid or something."

"Believe me, some of them are." The girl muttered, grinning and casting a sideways glance to the twins she was talking to earlier.

Annabeth turned to a guy with a bow and a bag of arrows, "Will? Could you take Leo and give him a tour of Cabin Nine? Introduce him to his new bunkmates and such." She gave an offhand wave and completely ignored my aghast expression.

"Sure, Annabeth." Will seemed to be used to taking orders from her. He turned to me, "C'mon."

"What's Cabin Nine?" I didn't like the way Will was advancing on me. Like a nice man in a white jacket about to take me to a happy place. He put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me towards one of the Greek-style buildings with a huge iron "9" hanging above the door, and smokestacks sticking out of the roof, "And I'm not a Vulcan!"  
"You're too short to be one, Valdez." I turned around. It was that girl, she had tagged along. She was smirking, showing just the edge of her chipped front tooth. She knew my last name, and I don't know why, but it pissed me off more than the very hypocritical jab at my height.

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" I snapped, just about done with her and everyone else here.

She just grinned wider, "Oh, so we're playing that game, huh? Ok." She cleared her throat in a very patronizing "I'll play along with your game" way and stuck her hand out for me to shake, "Jillian Waters. Professional best friend. We have a lot of catching up to do."

**Authors note: DUN DUN DUUUUUN! Actually, no. You probably all knew she was Jill anyway. I personally feel a little iffy about this chapter. The writing is kind of all over the place. But I'll just blame it on Leo's ADHD, because I really can't think any other ways to improve it. I'm glad I got this out of the way, it's the only chapter where a majority of it doesn't have Jill, so that means copying the dialogue almost word for word from the book, which was a pain in the butt. Reviews are a appreciated!**


	4. Important notice

Hi!

So I have news, not sure if it's good or bad or both, but it's news. I'm going to be taking writing classes over the summer and this story will be put on pause until I take said writing classes and improve my writing. I'd honestly rather write better than have to write, realize that it's crap and then rewrite and reupload.

This story won't be updated until June or July.

Thanks for reading, sorry for the inconvenience and I hope these classes will make the experience better for you (That sounds kind of weird out of context).

-hobovill99


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